


Quality Seconds

by neveralarch



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - No War, Arranged Marriage, Conjunx Endura, Consensual Infidelity, M/M, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: Starscream has a fantasy. About conjunxing Lord High Protector Megatron in the middle of the Senate, in front of Primus, his trinemates, and everyone who's ever slighted him.There's only one problem: Megatron's already bonded to Optimus Prime.





	Quality Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> So I was complaining to [DesdemonaKaylose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaKaylose/pseuds/DesdemonaKaylose) about how no one has written the arranged marriage Transformers fic I want to read where the marriage is actually good and comfortable and all of the relationship drama is coming in from the outside. Two weeks later: this.
> 
> This fic contains robot sex (sticky), semi-public sex, public arguments, arranged/political marriage, consensual infidelity, and poorly managed emotions. Please let me know if you need details.

Megatron's berth was _very_ big. It matched Megatron's palatial mansion, and his enormous social and political influence, and his gigantic spike which he was easing into Starscream's straining valve. Starscream writhed against the sumptuously soft berth covers and thought about exactly how good it was to finally get what he deserved.

Starscream was _so_ glad he hadn't listened to Thundercracker. "He just wants to get his spike wet! Why would the Lord High Protector of Cybertron be interested in a jumped-up cold-constructed weapons researcher? Nyeh nyeh nyeh nyeh I'm a huge idiot who loves theater and hates fun!" Starscream was going to show him. He gave it half an orbital cycle before Megatron broke off his sham union with Optimus Prime and elevated Starscream to Protector's Consort, with all of its attendant privileges and fawning sycophants. Starscream was going to have a conjunx ceremony in the middle of the Senate, his wings absolutely dripping in gold and gems, and Thundercracker and Skywarp would sit in the front row looking shabby and ashamed. When the officiant asked if anyone objected to the union Thundercracker would raise his hand, meekly withdraw his past objections, and admit that he had been wrong the _entire_ time. And then Starscream would be chair of the weapons department of the Iaconian Science Academy, and he could fire Wirecutter, that would show him to look down his nose at Starscream just because Starscream was a military build instead of an ugly flimsy microscope. And maybe Starscream would have lunch with Skyfire once a cyberweek and talk about all the amazing work the weapons and xenobiology departments could do together now that _they_ were in charge, and then he would come home in the evenings and lie on this berth and have amazing sex with Megatron, and in the morning he would get up and do it all over again. Over and over and over for the rest of his extremely long life.

"You're grinning," rumbled Megatron.

"Mmm." Starscream arched a little, letting Megatron slide deeper on the next thrust. "I'm happy."

"You don't look happy," said Megatron, though he wisely didn't stop moving. "You look manic."

Starscream tried to rearrange his expression into something more adoring. "I just love being here with you. You feel so _good_ , oh, oh, Megatron!"

Megatron didn't look exactly convinced, but Starscream followed up with a rippling flex of his valve that made Megatron groan and shutter his optics so at least he couldn't continue criticizing Starscream's expression. Starscream laid back and enjoyed the ride. He intended to keep enjoying it, all the way to the top.

\---

Megatron was gone when Starscream's alarm went off the next morning. He glared at the empty space in the berth for a few moments before his storage banks spit out a vague memory of Megatron complaining about an early meeting. Starscream had been very emphatic that this was Megatron's problem and that Megatron wasn't to wake Starscream up or ask for a goodbye kiss or even look at Starscream too hard. It was foolish to be upset that Megatron had followed instructions.

Starscream continued glaring at the berth until his second alarm went off and forced him up and into his day.

He took care of his maintenance first. Topped off his fluids, cleaned his air filter, and used some of the decadently expensive polish that he'd persuaded Megatron to stock in his washrack. Essentials complete, Starscream spent a little time rummaging through Megatron's cabinets and drawers, looking for blackmail material or signs of other lovers that Starscream would have to destroy.

He didn't find anything interesting. There were a couple password-protected datapads of erotic poems in a locked drawer, but Starscream had found those ages ago. They'd revealed Megatron's deepest, darkest desires: gentle kisses, holding hands during sex, and being told he was a good lover. Starscream found it both disgustingly sweet and disturbingly endearing.

Starscream's third alarm went off. That one meant he needed to find energon, unless he wanted his tanks to be near-empty after his commute to work.

Usually after a night of shared passion in Megatron's mansion, Megatron would bring Starscream a cube of warmed energon in the morning to help coax Starscream awake. Starscream didn't know where the fuel came from. Megatron didn't keep servants, and there wasn't an energon tap in the master suite. Starscream would change both of those things when he became consort.

For now, he resigned himself to foraging.

Most of the doors in this wing of the mansion were locked, and while Starscream _could_ hack them, he didn't think Megatron was keeping his fuel under encrypted lock and key. Starscream continued down the corridors until he was in the center of the mansion and he could smell warm energon just down the stairs. He could also hear someone humming.

Starscream crept down a few steps, ducking down to try and see through the doorway to the apparent dining room. There was a flash of lurid red and blue, and Starscream jerked back. It was Prime. It had to be, it was his mansion too. He was going to see Starscream and have him _arrested_ , why had Starscream allowed Megatron to take him here? Why had Starscream let his helm be turned by the promise of a lavish berth and no annoying trine mates banging on the walls? When Megatron's own estranged mate was lying in wait, ready to spring at any moment—

"Hello?" called _Optimus Prime_. "Are you still there? Did you want breakfast?"

Starscream held very still and silent, hoping the Prime would think he'd just gone away. His brilliant stratagem was spoiled when Prime leaned out of the doorway and spotted Starscream sitting on the stairs like a sparkling.

Starscream's engine stuttered, and his wings tensed, ready to burst a hole in the roof if he needed to escape. But strangely, unsettlingly, the Prime beamed.

"You must be Starscream," he said cheerfully. "Come down, let me see you. Megatron's told me so much about you."

Starscream hesitantly uncurled. "He has?" Starscream had gotten further under Megatron's armor than he'd thought, if Megatron was already laying the groundwork for divorce.

"Won't shut up about you." The Prime reached out and took Starscream's hand in a grip that could have been crushing, if the Prime wasn't so careful. "I can see why. You're very handsome."

Starscream instinctively smiled and tilted his helm to show off his best side, and the Prime took the opportunity to pull Starscream into the dining room and install him in a seat. The breakfast spread was oddly simple—a few cubes of plain energon and about a dozen shakers unevenly filled with mineral flavorings. 

"Tell me all about yourself." The Prime sat down across from Starscream and nudged a cube toward him. "You teach at the Science Academy, don't you? Megatron said you'd be chair of your department someday. But you're originally from Vos? Where did you study?"

Starscream took a sip of energon and tried to gather his thoughts. He'd imagined meeting the Prime a few times, preferably right after Megatron announced his intent to conjunx Starscream and dissolve his loveless bond with the Prime. He'd imagined the Prime weeping, or shouting with anger, or coldly cruel. Starscream could have taken any of those reactions with a smirk, confident in his firm hold on Megatron's spark.

He didn't know how to take _amiability_. It lured him into an odd sense of comfort, enough that Starscream found himself chatting about mutual acquaintances at the War Academy.

"Kup is still teaching?" The Prime pushed a shaker of cobalt sprinkles toward Starscream enticingly. "Isn't he retired?"

"He should be in the history department." Starscream graciously took the shaker. "Or better yet, installed as a statue in the alumni center, where he can tell his endless stories to mechs who actually enjoy pointless nostalgia."

The Prime made an odd coughing noise, and Starscream froze in the act of mixing his energon, suddenly remembering that one wrong word could have him excommunicated or worse. But it appeared the Prime was _laughing_.

"You're clever too," said the Prime admiringly. "Handsome, clever, entertaining... Megatron is lucky he met you. You're my favorite of his so far."

"I'm sorry?" Starscream frowned. "Favorite of his what?"

The Prime waved a hand. "Lovers, beaus, whatever we're calling them these days. Megatron has terrible taste. Usually. First it was this mech called Bombshell—pretty, but always playing mind games. You know his type. Then there was Swindle. He only wanted Megatron for his credits and his connections. Blitzwing, Dirge, Scrapper... I honestly lost track a few vorns into our administration. But I hope you stick around for a while. I like you."

There was a ringing in Starscream's audials. It took him a moment to identify it as his fourth and final alarm. "I have to go to work," he mumbled.

"Already?" The Prime looked disappointed. "You haven't finished your energon."

Starscream drained the cube, cobalt sprinkles and all, and stood up. He felt oddly unsteady on his feet, like his processor hadn't calibrated his balance properly. His audials were still ringing, even though he'd turned off the alarm.

"I enjoyed talking to you," said the Prime. "Tell Megatron to bring you down for dinner sometime instead of hiding you up in his rooms."

Starscream's social simulator tried and failed to produce an appropriate response. Starscream cut it off after it suggested falling over and playing dead until the Prime lost interest.

"I have to go," he repeated, instead. "I'm going to be late."

\---

 **Starscream:** My place at 1900. Don't make me wait for you.

Megatron reread the message as his transport struggled through the evening traffic. A pleased smile crept onto his face. He liked it when Starscream was demanding, which was fortunate since that seemed to be Starscream's default setting. He also liked the apartment Starscream shared with his trinemates. It reminded Megatron of the miners' barracks, or the communal houses he'd lived in as a young activist. Crowded, messy, full of life.

Starscream liked being fragged in Megatron's mansion, or in the back of his official transport, or in the private box Megatron and Optimus kept at the Iaconian Opera. Starscream rarely allowed Megatron into his apartment, where Megatron could relax for a moment and pretend he was a normal mech with a normal lover, trying to keep it down because Thundercracker had to go to work early the next day.

Maybe this was a sign that Starscream was becoming more comfortable. That he wanted to share more of himself with Megatron. Maybe he would finally be willing to try some thruster play, if Megatron promised to be gentle and clean up after himself.

Megatron leaned back in his seat and ran his hand over his interfacing panel, contemplating. By the time the transport pulled up in front of Starscream's building, Megatron was already half-charged and had to be very careful getting out.

"I'm here," he murmured to the intercom. Starscream didn't respond, just buzzed Megatron through. Then Megatron had an interminable wait for the creaky elevators, while charge trickled up his struts and warped his optic feed with static.

Starscream was waiting for him on the eighteenth floor, his foot tapping and the door to his apartment open. It was 1900 exactly.

"Hello," purred Megatron. "You look—"

Starscream grabbed him by the collar of his armor and _yanked_. Megatron was always surprised by just how much weight Starscream could throw around—he stumbled out of the elevator and into the apartment as Starscream continued to tow him forward.

"Lord High Protector," said Thundercracker, from the couch where he was watching the news on their cracked vidscreen.

"Hi Megatron!" chirped Skywarp, from where he was tossing screwed up treat wrappers at the vidscreen.

Megatron waved at them on his way to Starscream's room, where Starscream threw Megatron on the unmade berth and slammed the door closed.

Megatron tried to turn onto his back without falling off the narrow berth. He ought to buy Starscream a new, bigger one. Starscream liked it when Megatron bought him things. Apparently they didn't pay academics enough, or else Starscream already spent all his pay on polish.

"Open your panel," snapped Starscream.

"You're forceful today." Megatron obeyed, feeling another surge of charge rush through his frame. "I like it."

Starscream shoved himself in between Megatron's knees, curling one hand around Megatron's spike and pushing two fingers into Megatron's valve. Megatron gasped, his engine revving over and over again.

"You want me," said Starscream.

"Yes—"

"You need me." Starscream began to move his hands, stroking Megatron's spike even as he fragged Megatron's valve open.

"Yes, yes—"

"Tell me," hissed Starscream. "Tell me I'm your _favorite_."

There was something off about Starscream's tone, but he got three fingers into Megatron's valve and all of Megatron's higher processing cut off at once. "Please," gasped Megatron. "Please, please, give me your spike—"

"Is that what you want from me?" Starscream's panel opened and his short fat beautiful spike extended. "Is that what I'm good for?"

Starscream pulled his fingers out and Megatron couldn't even form words, just moan as Starscream slowly fed his spike into Megatron's desperately empty valve. The stretch burned, and charge was crackling across Megatron's frame, charring the berth covers. Starscream ran his hand over Megatron's cheek, marking Megatron with his own lubricant, then pulled back and began to thrust.

Starscream was muttering something, but Megatron couldn't hear above the pounding in his spark. He tried to pull his legs wider, arch his back more, anything to give Starscream a slightly better angle, a slightly deeper thrust. Starscream hunched over him and Megatron wrapped his arms around Starscream's neck, pulling his face down to Megatron's own.

Starscream kissed him once, biting Megatron's lips and then shoving his tongue into Megatron's mouth. Megatron opened for him, letting Starscream take whatever he wanted, but Starscream pulled away and pressed his face into Megatron's neck instead. His thrusts sped up, his hips beating a loud ringing rhythm against Megatron's aft. Starscream didn't falter when Thundercracker pounded on the door, or when Skywarp started blasting shard pop to cover the noise. Starscream only slowed when Megatron's valve pulsed with his overload, pulling Starscream's spike in until Starscream stilled and overloaded as well. Then Starscream slumped onto Megatron's chest, his spike slipping out of Megatron's valve and his legs curling to tangle with Megatron's.

"Pit," breathed Megatron. "What did I do to deserve that?"

Starscream shrugged. He wasn't looking at Megatron. His wings were flattened against his back.

Megatron's processor, abruptly clear of charge, began to function again.

"Did something go wrong at work?" He took Starscream's chin in his hand, trying to coax Starscream to meet his optics. "Do you want me to pull Wirecutter's grant? I can comm Senator Shockwave on the science committee and—"

"No." Starscream knocked Megatron's hand away. "Everything's fine."

"Are you upset because I had to leave this morning?" guessed Megatron. "I did try to wake you, but—"

"It's fine," repeated Starscream. "I had breakfast with Optimus."

"And he said something that upset you." Megatron pulled up his comm. "Let me—"

"He was very nice," said Starscream, dully. 

Megatron closed the comm line again. He felt like he was swimming in a mercury lake with all his vents open. Or like he was trying to pull Starscream out of the lake, while Starscream tried his best to sink. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I had a fantasy." Starscream finally looked at Megatron, but his optics were far away. "That you were going to be mine someday. That you'd get rid of Optimus and bond with me instead."

"Oh." Megatron's emotional core warred with his logic circuits. "Of course I'm yours, but you have to remember the political realities of our situation. The Senate would have never accepted me as Lord High Protector if I hadn't conjunxed with Optimus. Optimus wanted to avoid the violence of a confrontation, so we agreed—"

"It doesn't matter." Starscream rested his helm on Megatron's chest. "I understand my place now."

Megatron felt a chill trickle down his struts. For a moment his processor was completely silent, and all he could hear was the wailing beat of shard pop and Starscream's unsettlingly even vents.

\---

Megatron had lunch with Optimus the next day, as usual. It was their main point of contact in their otherwise separate lives—Optimus would bring a few cubes to Megatron's office, and they would spend a joor or two complaining about the retrograde priests of Primus and the prejudiced Senators who were constant roadblocks on the way to equality and progress.

Megatron wasn't in the mood today.

"Who died?" asked Optimus, as he settled himself in a chair. "Or do you think someone _needs_ to die? Do I need to call the enforcers to restrain you?"

"No." Megatron leaned back in his own chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Starscream—"

"Oh, I liked Starscream." Optimus frowned. "He's breaking up with you? Already?"

"No!" Megatron bristled, but then he realized that he wasn't even sure if he was right to deny it. Starscream had spent the rest of last night in an odd dispirited melancholy. Megatron had tried to flatter him back into cheerfulness—normally an easy task, but this time Starscream wouldn't be budged. Then Megatron had tried to goad Starscream into anger, which was usually even easier. But Starscream seemed to have spent all of his anger in his earlier claiming of Megatron's valve. Now he'd moved on from anger to _acceptance_.

"What did you say to him?" asked Megatron. "He wasn't acting like himself."

Optimus shrugged. "We didn't have much time before he left for work. I told him he was handsome and clever and entertaining. He is."

Megatron drummed his fingers on his desk. That was exactly the kind of thing he would have expected Starscream to enjoy. The _Prime_ calling him handsome. Megatron was surprised Starscream hadn't tried to trade up. Unless—

"Did he try to seduce you? And you turned him down?"

Optimus chuckled. "No, no. I think I said something about how he's much better than your usual type. Do you remember when you were dating that truck? The one who kept leaning on the walls and smearing oil on them."

Megatron winced. "I don't think Starscream needs to hear about Motormaster."

"And he destroyed that Platinum Age table when you told him you didn't want to see him again," mused Optimus. "Starscream seems like he'd be more reasonable."

"You clearly don't know him at all." Megatron couldn't imagine the destruction Starscream would wreak if Megatron left him. "And stop talking about this supposed break up. Starscream was planning on _conjunxing_ me someday."

"Oh." Optimus lost his amused tone. "Did you—"

"I explained exactly why that would be impossible," Megatron assured him. "He understands."

"I didn't realize he was so serious about you." Optimus fidgeted in his chair, looking guilty.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Optimus looked even more guilty. "I thought he was having fun. You know. Notching his berth."

"Optimus," growled Megatron.

"I might have been a little condescending," admitted Optimus. "I didn't mean to be."

Optimus never meant to be. It was the curse of the petty bourgeoisie—the relative privilege just oozed out of Optimus' seams. Megatron could see where _my place_ came from, now. Starscream's processor usually twisted the barest slight into a mortal insult. It had obviously had a field day with teasing out every implication of Optimus’ words.

"He really wanted to bond with _you_?" asked Optimus.

"You're being condescending again," said Megatron. "He wouldn't be the first, you know."

"Yes, yes, mechs fall at your feet." Optimus smiled. "It worked out well enough for us."

Megatron picked up his cube, contemplating the best way to salvage this. He wanted Starscream even more than he had when he'd first seen him, giving a presentation on the defensive uses of mobile black holes during a special lecture at the Senate. Optimus had been quick to point out the potential for the horrific destruction of entire species. Megatron had only seen a brilliant mech with a dazzlingly vicious smile and the strength to fight his way through an academic system that was still biased against the cold constructed and military frames. He'd asked Starscream to dinner, to discuss Starscream's theories in greater detail. The rest was a blur of engex and passion.

But his life with Optimus was steady, comfortable, _productive_. Mechs listened to Megatron because they knew he had the Prime's audial both in the Senate and at home. And Optimus gained confidence and courage from Megatron's conviction, while Megatron could be a little more patient, a little more moderate, knowing he would get his way in the end.

Optimus reached out and covered Megatron's hand with his own. "Tell me how to fix this," he said. "Tell me how to make you happy."

"I was happy," said Megatron. "The question is, how do we make _Starscream_ happy?"

\---

They were at the opera. In Megatron's private box. It was very nice. It distracted from the odd pain in Starscream's spark that he'd been feeling lately, the one that only got worse when he was around Megatron.

Down on the stage, a little purple mech made his bows. Was it over already? Oh. The intermission. Starscream crossed his legs and drummed his talons against his thigh. Keeping his hands to himself.

"I'm going to get another drink," murmured Megatron. "Can I get anything for you?"

"Whatever you like," said Starscream. Once he would've demanded the most expensive thing on the menu. Imported Velocitronian engex with gold leaf and titanium dissolved inside. Sweets made with innermost energon. It didn't matter now—there wasn't anything left for him to prove, no one for him to defeat. Optimus Prime had won the game before Starscream had even started playing.

Megatron pressed a meaningless kiss to Starscream's helm and went out to find a bar. Starscream slumped back in his seat, watching the empty stage.

He should leave. Why did he stick around when there was no way for him to get what he wanted? He was going to go. Now. Now. Now.

Starscream didn't move except to sigh. Maybe he would leave in a moment. Or after the intermission.

The door to the box slammed open, and Starscream jerked upright.

"You," growled _Optimus Prime_. "I should have known. Didn't you take the hint last time?"

"Excuse me?"

"I thought you understood your place," said the Prime. "You can have Megatron's berth, you can have his spike, but this is _my_ box. How dare you shame me in public, you little harlot?"

"Slag off!" Starscream found himself on his feet, his face twisted into a snarl. "Megatron wants me here, with him! He doesn't want to take you to the opera, you oversized prude! You've probably never even seen a spike unless it belonged to Primus. Or is that what you do with the Matrix? Commune with the dead Primes and beg them to frag you?"

The Prime took a step back, his optics widening with shock. Oh, hadn't he realized that Starscream had a working voicebox?

"You may have Megatron's bond, but I have his spark," hissed Starscream. "He _belongs_ to me. Not you, and not all of those other mechs he cavorted with in the past. Me!"

"Starscream?" Megatron leaned in through the open door, both his hands occupied with extremely expensive looking drinks. "Is something—Optimus?"

Starscream shoved past the Prime, taking a drink from Megatron's hand and draining it. The engex was already rushing to Starscream's helm as he looped his arm through Megatron's newly free one and tossed the empty glass off the balcony. There was a smashing sound and someone in the seats below yelped. 

"Take me home," purred Starscream into Megatron's audial, pointedly ignoring the Prime. "Take me back to your berth, where I belong, and eat my valve until you can't remember your own designation. I'll ride your face all the way to the Pit, and you'll beg me for the honor. I'll—"

Lust and embarrassment were warring on Megatron's face, and his armor was actually steaming. He drained his own drink, tossed it off the balcony—another smash, another yelp—then actually picked Starscream up, put him over his shoulder and carried him out of the box. Through the crowds of mechs standing around chatting during the intermission. Everyone could see what was happening. The Prime was shocked into silence, just standing there watching them go with his finials waving like an idiot. Starscream rested his helm against Megatron's neck and gave the Prime the sweetest smile he could manage.

Then he reached down and squeezed Megatron's aft hard enough to make the Lord High Protector of Cybertron stumble.

A camera flashed. It was _perfect_.

\---

Starscream woke the next morning alone in Megatron's berth, but it didn't shake his mood. He hummed to himself as he cleaned his air filter, and he strode out of Megatron's suite without even looking for blackmail material. He didn't need to. He'd already won.

Starscream headed for the dining room. Who cared if he met the Prime? It would just give Starscream another opportunity to flaunt his superior hold. Starscream _wanted_ to meet the Prime now, while Starscream still had streaks of gray on his thighs where he'd held Megatron's helm in place. Let the Prime see everything he was missing.

There were voices in the dining room. Starscream hesitated on the stairs, hearing both Megatron and the Prime. He found himself sitting down, leaning forward to best hear their conversation.

"—Seem happy." The Prime's tone was more amused and affectionate than Starscream ever wanted to hear it. "The plan worked?"

Megatron grunted. "You're a terrible actor."

"Good enough." The Prime chuckled. "Starscream believed it."

"Starscream fuels on drama," said Megatron. "He needs an enemy."

"Then I can play the role," said the Prime. "And I think we can make it work for us. We've spent too long as allies—the Senate is starting to get complacent. We could shake things up, even make rival factions. What do you think about the name 'Autobots'?"

"I think you're having too much fun," said Megatron, sounding _fond_.

"I don't like the tabloid covers, though," said Optimus. "Have you seen the Praxian Standard?"

There were other words, but they didn't penetrate the haze in Starscream's processor. All he could hear was the incessant pinging of his alarm going off.

He had to go to work.

\---

The Praxian Standard had a ludicrously bad photo of Optimus, with his mask digitally altered to reveal an oversized scowl. Megatron was trying to stifle a smile when something crashed into the mansion.

Megatron pushed Optimus under the table and rushed out into the hall, onlining every piece of weaponry he'd retained in his move from revolutionary activist to establishment authority. Fortunately, he soon was able to revise his emergency assessment. It wasn't an invading army or a squad of assassins.

There was a narrow, oblong, jagged hole in the ceiling. As if a seeker standing on the staircase had suddenly decided to leave via the shortest route possible.

Megatron's spark twisted. He commed Starscream.

**This user is unavailable.**

Megatron commed again. And again. The response didn't change.

"Well," said Optimus. "This does put Motormaster's oil smears into perspective."

"Shut up!" snarled Megatron. Why wouldn't Starscream _answer_?

"Megatron?" Optimus sounded surprised. "Are you all right?"

"This isn't funny," said Megatron. "He must have heard us, he must think—He knows we lied to him. He won't answer my comm and I—I—"

Optimus put his hand on Megatron's shoulder. He looked exactly as calm and as steady as he had when he'd asked Megatron to try conjunxing with him instead of starting a bloody revolution, all those vorns ago.

"You need to go to him," said Optimus. "No more schemes. You need to tell him that you're serious about this, that it isn't a game. I'm sorry I thought it was."

"I can't conjunx him," said Megatron. "You know I can't."

"You think a ceremony's all that matters?" Optimus gave Megatron a shove toward the door. "I'll call your transport." Then he glanced up at the ceiling, still raining debris. "And the repair bots."

\---

Someone was knocking.

"Go away," growled Starscream. He'd gone to his morning meetings, he'd given Wirecutter his progress reports, and he'd earned the right to sit in his office and be miserable.

The door opened anyway. "Are you sitting in the dark?" asked Skyfire.

"Don't ask pointless questions," said Starscream. "Why are you here?"

"I didn't see you in the canteen." Skyfire held out a couple of energon cubes. "I brought lunch."

"I don't need lunch," said Starscream, but he cleared some paperwork off of his desk anyway. Skyfire sat down in the guest chair, which made the same worrying creaking sounds it always made when Skyfire sat in it.

"So," said Skyfire, cheerily. "How are you?"

"My life is a joke and I'm never going to be happy," said Starscream.

"Uh," said Skyfire.

"I was dating the Lord High Protector, the actual Lord High Protector of Cybertron," said Starscream. "And he was going to give me all of the power and the recognition I've always deserved and I was going to grind all of my enemies under my platinum thruster—"

"Enemies?" Skyfire tilted his helm. "Platinum thruster?"

"I was going to get reframed for the conjunxing ceremony." Starscream unearthed a datapad and flicked it on, shoving it at Skyfire. "I was even going to repaint! Double wings!"

"It's very pretty." Skyfire gently set the datapad aside. "But isn't the Lord High Protector already—"

"In a loveless political bond, yes, yes." Starscream slumped back in his chair, grateful for the darkness that hid the agony on his face. "Optimus Prime was _kind_ to me."

Skyfire offered a smile. "That sounds nice."

"Nice? Nice?" Starscream shot upright, slamming his fist on the desk. "He should hate me! He should feel threatened! He shouldn't be able to recharge, knowing that I'm in Megatron's berth!"

"He should make a scene at the Iaconian Opera and make planetary news?" suggested Skyfire. "Have you seen the Praxian Standard?"

Starscream had. Wirecutter had shown him the article, while blathering about conduct unbecoming a junior member of the faculty. The Standard had found a few photos from Starscream's wild youth—dancing at Maccadam's, drinking with Skywarp and Thundercracker, even draped over that infamous mech-about-town Ratchet. Starscream had ached, looking at that carefree seeker who didn't know what treachery and betrayal felt like.

There was a picture of Starscream at the opera, thrown over Megatron's shoulder and with his hand on Megatron's aft. This image was in full 3-D, with supplementary downloads of the photographer's sensory impressions and scandalized glee. That made Starscream ache even more.

"It was all a lie," said Starscream. "The Prime doesn't actually care. They were just humoring me, using it for politics. Megatron's never going to be mine, not really."

"I'm sorry," offered Skyfire. "But now that it's over, you can—"

Starscream squirmed in his seat. Apparently the dark didn't hide that, because Skyfire's tone sharpened.

"You didn't break up with him?"

"Not _yet_ ," said Starscream. "I don't want to move too quickly. Do something I regret."

"You broke up with Red Alert because he encrypted his personal datapads and wouldn't tell you the code," said Skyfire. "You broke up with Slipstream because she borrowed your third-best wing chains without asking. You broke up with _me_ because I was experimenting with plant-based energon for a few cyberweeks and you didn't like the way it made my frame smell. Megatron did all of this and you're just hiding in your office and letting it slide?"

"This is different," muttered Starscream.

"Why?" asked Skyfire.

"Because I," Starscream hesitated. "I, I just—"

There was knocking again. Starscream scowled at the door, torn between relief and irritation at the interruption. "What?"

"Starscream?" called Megatron. "May I come in?"

Starscream didn't know what to say, what to do, how to feel.

Skyfire extracted himself from the chair. Something snapped, but Skyfire didn't look away from the door. “Let me handle this.”

\---

The door opened. Megatron took a vent, preparing to recite the speech he'd written for Starscream on his way over to the Science Academy.

Then he let all of his air out at once as he was crowded back against the wall.

"You'd better be here to apologize," said the looming monster of a shuttle who'd emerged from Starscream's office. 

"Or what?" asked Megatron with patently false bravado. He barely came up to his adversary's waist.

"Or I'll have to write a strongly-worded letter of complaint," said the shuttle seriously. "Do you have any idea how Starscream feels about you?"

Megatron didn't. He honestly didn't know a single thing about how Starscream felt.

Some of that must have shown on his face, because the shuttle sighed and stepped back. "All right," he said. "Go in. But I'll be waiting out here if Starscream needs me."

Megatron went in. Starscream's office was dark and cluttered, but Megatron was immediately drawn to Starscream sitting at his desk, his optics illuminating the delicate molding of his face.

"In my entire existence," began Megatron, "I have never met another mech who inspired so much passion, so much desire, so much—"

"I'm in love with you," blurted Starscream.

Megatron's voicebox stopped working.

"I love your hideous face and your cloying poems and the way your nose scrunches up when you're really frustrated by someone and thinking about how you're not allowed to kill them." Starscream put his hands over his face. "I think I'd love you even if you weren't the Lord High Protector of Cybertron."

Megatron fought to produce words, but only managed a high-pitched whine as his voicebox tried to reboot.

"I don't know what to do," mumbled Starscream.

Megatron's voicebox finally sputtered back into life, making his words sound hoarse. "I'll resign."

"No!" Starscream dropped his hands, revealing a look of horror. "I mean. Let's not be hasty."

"I can't make you my Consort." Megatron dropped into a chair, nearly stabbing himself with the broken armrest before he managed to reposition himself. "I need Optimus' authority, his connections, the security of our alliance. I don't have any power without him."

"I could assassinate him?" offered Starscream. "We've been working on a missile that orients on spark signatures, and—"

"Optimus is also my best friend," said Megatron, hurriedly. "He has given everything for Cybertron. I won't let you take his life too."

"Then that's it." Starscream looked away. "You don't need to play along with my delusions any more. We had fun while it lasted."

" _Starscream_." Megatron reached across the desk, not quite touching Starscream's plating. "I can give you my love as well. If that would be enough."

For a moment there was silence, except for Starscream's ragged vents and the overheated rumbling of Megatron's own engine.

Then Starscream looked at Megatron and smiled. "It's a start."

"Oh?" Megatron felt his spark whirl hopefully in his chest. "What else can I give?"

"Jewels," murmured Starscream. He caught Megatron's hand and drew him forward, out of his chair, until Megatron was splayed over the desk. "Research grants." Starscream put his hands on Megatron's cheeks. "Your attendance at every faculty holiday party."

"Done," said Megatron. "I'm yours, as much as I can be. As much as you will have of me." Starscream still looked a little uncertain, and Megatron remembered what Optimus had told him. "For real," Megatron said. "Not for a game. I'm yours."

Starscream kissed him, lightly at first, then deep and slow. Megatron held on to Starscream's shoulders and tried to put everything into this kiss. To make it last forever.

Someone banged on the door. "Is everything okay in there?" called the shuttle. "Is someone dead? Starscream?"

Starscream broke the kiss, holding Megatron firmly when Megatron tried to reclaim Starscream's mouth. "It's fine, Skyfire!" Starscream shouted. "You can go away!"

"Is it actually fine or should I call Skywarp to get rid of the evidence?" yelled Skyfire.

Starscream groaned and got up, stomping over to the door and yanking it open. "It's fine!" he snapped. "And if it wasn't fine you would have just blown my cover! Go away unless you want to listen to the Lord High Protector of Cybertron sucking my spike!"

Megatron turned onto his back just in time to see Skyfire's massive face contort with painful embarrassment. And to see a little microscope run up with his hands in the air.

"What in Primus' name is going on here?" shrieked the microscope. "Starscream, this is the most disruptive, offensive—"

Megatron stood up and came over to the door. "Hello," he said. "I'm the Lord High Protector of Cybertron."

"Oh." The microscope gave Megatron a faintly terrified look. "I'm Wirecutter, head of the weapons department, so nice to—"

"I'm going to suck Starscream's spike now," said Megatron. "You might want to leave."

He shut the door on Wirecutter's horrified gape. Then he shoved Starscream back against the closed door before sinking to his knees and setting to work. Starscream was giggling almost hysterically, but his panel opened easily enough and soon he was moaning, obnoxiously loud and still grinning.

"I'm going to get fired," Starscream gasped at some point, well after Wirecutter had stopped swearing and Skyfire had thumped away. "Ohh, but it was worth it."

Megatron pulled back, taking Starscream's spike in hand and giving it a few squeezing pumps. "You're not going to get fired. I'll get you an endowed chair. Your own department. Whatever you like."

"Because I'm your favorite?" asked Starscream, and some slight edge in his voice alerted Megatron to the trap.

"Because I love you," said Megatron, distilling his planned speech into a couple of sentences. "Because I'm yours."

Starscream moaned, high and desperate, and came all over Megatron's face.

\---

"Office Hours Scandal!" read Optimus. "Lord High Protector Clanging Naughty Professor in Public University!"

Starscream refused to be ashamed. He just sipped his cube with an air of quiet dignity.

"Here, this one's the best," said Optimus. "Lord High Protector Sucks Spike Like He Sucks Up Your Taxes! And it has an audio file, should I—"

"No!" snapped Starscream. "Not interested!" 

"Give it a rest." Megatron rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm too tired for this."

"Is that because of your," Optimus flipped to another front page, "Afternoon Delight in the Academy? Oh, this one has All the Details the Senate Tried to Ban!"

Starscream's fans kicked up, trying to cool his overheated embarrassment module. He resisted the urge to hide under the ornate dining room table.

"I thought you were nice," he hissed.

"He's only nice until you get to know him," muttered Megatron.

Optimus beamed. "Welcome to the family. You're starring in Rewind's latest video, by the way. Let me just pull that up—"

Starscream covered his optics. "What's the title?"

"Lord Deep Penetrator and Professor Thruster Are Going to Reignite the Hot Spots with Their Passion," said Optimus. "I think he likes you."

"Still worth it?" asked Megatron.

"As long as everyone knows you're mine," said Starscream. "It's basically the same as a conjunx ceremony in the middle of the Senate."

Thundercracker didn't think so, according to the seventy-three comms he'd sent Starscream in the last three joors. But Starscream was having dinner with his new family. He'd deal with Thundercracker later.

He wasn't giving up on _every_ part of the fantasy. Thundercracker was going to admit he'd been wrong about Megatron if Starscream had to drag it out of him kicking and screaming.

"You look manic again," said Megatron.

"You bring it out in me," said Starscream. "Optimus, would you pass the cobalt?"

**Author's Note:**

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